


The Bet

by Rynfinity



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, F/M, M/M, Pre-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can get them to kiss, you know," Freya says.</p>
<p>In which pre-Thor Loki, Thor, and friends go drinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an inside joke between me and a friend, but I'm hoping the rest of you may get something out of it just the same
> 
> Un-beta'd - comments and corrections welcome.

“I can get them to kiss, you know.”

Freya bounces on her bar stool, excited. They’ve been in Asgard for days, for the festival; things are winding down, and they’ll be heading home in the morning, but there is still plenty of drinking left to be done. _Boring_ drinking. Starting trouble is much more fun.

Her brother laughs. “Ah, sister, you overestimate your skill. The sons of Odin – well, the one you target, at least; I am not the least bit sure about the younger – are all about the maidens. Drunk as he is, Thor will not kiss a man. Not for real.”

“You’re wrong. I can do it. In fact, I will make it a wager. If I fail, I will kiss _you_.”

Freyr rolls his eyes. “Oh, like _that_ is a worthy bet. You kiss me _all_ the time.”

“Fine,” Freya huffs. “If I fail, I will _not_ kiss you, if you would rather. We shall see how you like _that._ She stops to consider, cocking her head. “Oh, wait, we shan’t. Because I will win.”

Freyr spins to look her full in the face, smirking. “Fine. You’re on.”

~

The boys – and they _are_ boys… Odin’s sons are barely past adolescence: Loki gawky and timid; Thor a couple of years ahead, just coming into his adult strength – are at the other end of the bar. Surrounded, of course, by the usual cast of characters. Everyone is laughing and jesting.

Everyone, that is, except Loki; he is the subject – yet again, from what Freya has heard – of said jesting. It is this injustice which initially caught her attention.

She leans in close, lips brushing Freyr’s ear. “They pick on that one mercilessly. One day we shall all suffer, if no one intervenes. Consider this my act of charity.”

Freyr elbows her in the ribs. “You are incapable of charity, sister mine. You just want to watch.”

She grins ear-to-ear. “And where, exactly, is the flaw in that? Watch and learn.”

~

Freya moves a little closer to the Aesir men, listening for an opening. Fandral is drunk as drunk; his voice rings out over the crowded bar: “Your brother here, Thor, he may as well have been a maiden. He reads. He studies. He plays at seidr. He is _dainty._ Why, he will make some warrior a fine bride, will _Princess_ Loki.”

Loki, red-faced and angry, starts to protest – his voice is quiet, but Freya manages to catch “-not true, you know it. I do not have relations with men. _Thor,_ tell your friend-“ – but is drowned out by raucous laughter.

When Thor does not at once come to his brother’s aid (in fact, the big ass claps Fandral on the back and laughs all the harder) Freya sidles in. “Gentlemen,” she chirps brightly (though they are in fact behaving like anything but), “may I join you?”

She is pretty – exceptionally desirable, even, all soft curves and flowing hair – and she knows how to make the most of it. Sure enough, they fall all over themselves to make room. Thor beckons her over; she smiles sweetly, but squeezes in next to Loki instead. 

“Why do you pick on this one so? I think he is perfectly manly,” she purrs.

Actually, she doesn’t, but he is adorable and – as she told Freyr – she hates to see him treated badly. The universe hates to see him treated badly, too, but this is personal. Thor is too cocky and it rubs her wrong.

Nobody rubs Freya wrong and gets away with it.

Both Thor and Fandral snicker. Fine. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

She leans in close and brushes her fingers lightly along Loki’s forearm. He stiffens – _ah, he does not like that at all_ – so she merely inquires as to what he is drinking before letting her hand drop away.

For a bit she just makes small talk and observes. Loki radiates tension – he is anxious and uncomfortable and afraid. And touch-starved. Well, she can help with that, if he will only let her. She lays a hand possessively on the back of his neck, just above the edge of his tunic, and is a bit surprised to find him relaxing against her.

_Oh._

The boys jest and tease. She tightens her fingers; Loki practically melts into her, eyes heavy-lidded. Keeping her grip firm, she leans in to kiss him lightly on the cheek and smiles at Fandral. “See? He likes the maidens just fine.”

He probably does not but – for tonight – this will do.

Another round, and another. The others still tease, and Loki is still anxious – he has the sweetest little worried frown; she wants to take him somewhere quiet and kiss it away – but Freya finds she can make good headway as long as she keeps things a little rough. 

By the bottom of the next round, her tongue is in his mouth and her hand presses the warm, smooth skin beneath his unlaced tunic and she is dangerously close to losing sight of her wager.

Right, Thor. Fandral and Thor.

As she pulls away she digs her nails into Loki’s chest, lightly. He hums, nuzzling against her hair. Fandral is openly staring, lustful; the rest have moved on and are reminiscing about the day’s events.

It seems she has managed to put a stop to the teasing. Excellent.

Now, on to her actual mission.

Without letting go of Loki completely – his skin is like velvet and he purrs so prettily – she winks at Fandral. He cocks an eyebrow; she jerks her head towards Thor, who is lost in conversation with another friend, and mouths “I dare you to kiss him.”

Fandral pantomimes shocked offense. She laughs. One hand on Loki’s thigh, she leans in close and whispers “you know you want to.” As she steps back, Fandral grins.

“You are right, I do.”

And, two rounds later, after Freya spends a little more quality Loki time winding Fandral up, he does it: He kisses Thor square on the mouth. Thor’s eyes widen in surprise, but the ale does its job and the future king makes a good recovery. He plants one big hand squarely on the back of Fandral’s head and pulls his friend in for an enthusiastic, open-mouthed kissing session that has the whole place hooting and howling.

Well, nearly the whole place; under Freya’s palm, Loki is so tense he’s literally vibrating. She sneaks a look – his jaw is set, his mouth pinched into a tight little line. Interesting! Jealous? And of whom?

Thor and Fandral pull apart, red-faced and panting. The hour is late, and she is drunk. She files her question away for another time and smiles. “Do enjoy your revelry, gentlemen. I fear I have left my poor brother unattended.”

Amidst much kissing of hands, she makes her farewell. As she turns to go, she gives Loki’s shoulder one last squeeze and whispers “they don’t deserve you, my sweet” into his soft black hair.

And then marches proudly back to Freyr, smiling broadly like the fool she is not. “Brother mine, you forgot to ask my price.”

He will not make _that_ mistake again.


End file.
